


Lace me up, Scotty

by ineptshieldmaid



Category: Star Trek XI
Genre: Corsetry, Crossdressing, Multi, alien character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-15
Updated: 2009-12-15
Packaged: 2017-10-13 13:35:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/137954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ineptshieldmaid/pseuds/ineptshieldmaid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Nyota's bought robes to match Spock's." Gaila ran her hand up Kirk's thigh, hovering over the lace tops of his stockings. "It's only logical that you dress to match me."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lace me up, Scotty

There was an official reprimand in this, Kirk knew. Possibly even a court-martial. But James T. Kirk had never rejected a dare, and functions on New Vulcan were no place to start. If he wished, traitorously, that the private clan dinner which he was about to attend (by "private clan dinner", it turns out, Vulcans mean a gathering of several hundred) had been an official function to which he could reasonably wear his dress uniform, he was not about to admit it. But Spock was dressing in traditional Vulcan robes, and Kirk was attending as his friend, not his captain.

"Nyota's bought robes to match Spock's." Gaila ran her hand up Kirk's thigh, hovering over the lace tops of his stockings. "It's only logical that you dress to match _me_." There were some definite weaknesses in that logic, Kirk thought: he had slept through an entire three-hour lecture, once, on gendered customs in Vulcan costume. But they weren't Vulcans, were they? Sitting up, he kissed Gaila once, biting her lip to make her wince.

"Let's do this."

Scotty shoved a shot of whisky into his hand. "Ye'll be needing this." Kirk downed it in one go: Vulcan festivities were high on protocol and low on inebriation, which, he felt, was entirely the wrong way to go about it.

Gaila was already dressed: sleek black trousers; her green shirt high in the collar and long in the sleeve, in keeping with Vulcan standards; her hair piled up on top of her head to leave the green curve of her neck exposed; and that corset: panelled in black and gold and cinched in tighter than any waist had the right to be.

Before the second shot of whisky was gone - Gaila toasting him from her own glass - Scotty was holding out trousers and shirt, not identical but in the same colour scheme. Kirk stepped into them delicately, letting Gaila fiddle with the invisible zip in the side of his shirt. Boots were next: thigh-high and laced up all the way, Scotty working one onto his left foot and Gaila wrestling with the right.

High heels, Kirk thought, weren't so bad, after all. He stamped experimentally. A man in high heels could go anywhere, he decided.

He picked up the corset which lay unbuckled on the bed, and held it out. "Lace me up, Scotty."


End file.
